AOkay Mistah J
by littleblackghost
Summary: *My Chemical Romance fic. Frank/Gerard.* Halloween had always been Franks favourite day of the year.  But this year...this year was different.


Frank stared at the pot of white face paint on the table in front of him.  
>Halloween.<br>It had always been his favourite day of the whole year.  
>When he was younger, there was the presents, the candy, costumes and Gerard.<br>When he was older, it was presents, candy, costumes, and Gerard.  
>This year was different. The presents were unwrapped and sitting in messy piles on his bedroom floor.<br>The candy was in ghoulish bowls in the hallway, just waiting for the little monsters and witches to come knocking at the door.  
>His costume was laid out on his bed, the face paints in a neat little row on the table in front of him.<br>But no Gerard. Not this year.  
>No present from Gerard. No ready made treat bag from Gerard s mother. No help with his costume.<br>No. Not this year.  
>This year he was on his own. On Halloween. On his birthday. His 18th birthday, none the less.<p>Every year, Gerard picked out matching costumes for them. Even before they had started dating.<br>When they were twelve, they were Batman and Robin.  
>Age thirteen, they were the Mario Brothers.<br>Fourteen, Green Hornet and Kato.  
>Fifteen, Shaggy and Scooby.<br>When they were sixteen, Gerard asked Frank to be his. They were Peter Pan and his Lost Boy that year.  
>At seventeen, Frankenstein and his Monster.<br>This year, they were to be The Joker and Harley Quinn.  
>Gerard had even found Frank a harlequin costume that wasn t too feminine. He d even made the oversized comedy mallet to match.<br>But no. This year they wouldn t be together. They wouldn t be Harley and Joker. Not side by side at least.  
>Gerard had decided two weeks earlier, he didn t want to be with Frank this Halloween.<br>I just don t think this is working out, he d said. It just doesn t feel right. He claimed there was no one else. Claimed he just wanted time on his own. To study. Be himself.  
>But Frank knew better. He d seen him in the school hallways. He d seen him in the art studio at lunchtime.<br>With her. That whore. Smiling. Laughing. Joking.  
>With her. Her.<br>And Frank was alone. Watching. Sitting the corner of the classroom, drawing diamonds on his papers.  
>It tore his stomach to shreds.<p>

Every year, Ray held a Halloween party. His older brother would get them kegs, and they re whole year would show up, get drunk, and pass out to the sounds of Metallica and teenage sex. Every year, Gerard would have Ray stop the party before midnight, and produce a cake with just the right amount of candles. Gerard would kiss him as the last candle blew out.

This year, Frank was going to the party alone. Yes, he was still going. Yes, he was still going as the lovable little clown.  
>He dipped a little sponge into the white paint in front of him, then ran the sponge across his face. Once satisfied, found the black tub, painting large black circles over his eyes. He covered the bags, the red rings from the ten thousand tears he d cried. He painted his chapped, dry lips with several coats of the black paint.<br>He turned to face his bed, taking a deep breath before making his way over to the black and red clown costume. He picked up a little black eye mask, pulling it over his head to rest on his face. Next, he picked up the head piece, slowly pulling it on, careful not to smudge his make up.  
>He took his time pulling the remainder of the costume on, fixing the booties over his kicked in converse boots. He eyed the matching gloves Gerard had bought him, the ones he d so carefully cut the finger tips off.<br>He turned to look in the mirror, a little smile playing on his lips.  
>He lifted a little black side bag from the floor by his bed, before pushing the rest of his face paint into it, along with a tin of green spray paint.<br>Halloween was his night. His.  
>Ray was already passed out on the sofa when Frank arrived, his skeleton costume slightly askew.<br>The music was blaring, but Frank couldn t hear a thing. He dragged the over sized mallet along the ground behind him. He d been surprised at the weight of it when Gerard had first given it to him.  
>It s to make it seem more realistic! He d laughed, wrapping his arms around Franks waist as he d lifted the mallet above their heads.<br>Yeah. This thing was heavy.  
>Frank spent a few minutes walking around the house, looking. He didn t care about the looks, or whispers.<br>No. Nobody had expected him to show up. Not on his own. Not without Gerard.  
>He found his way to the kitchen. Empty, but for two people.<br>Gerard. And Her.  
>They both looked up from their seats at the kitchen table, faces paled.<br>She made her excuses, went into the yard to join a group huddled around a keg.  
>Gerard ran a hand through his long black locks. No costume? Frank whispered, staring at the floor.<br>Gerard shook his head, Didn t feel right. Frank sighed. No, nothing seems to feel right anymore, does it? He lifted his bag from his shoulder, setting it on the table.  
>Gerard made to stand up. He never quite made it to feet.<br>Frank hoisted the mallet above his head, bringing it down on Gerard s skull.  
>He hit the floor with thud, his back slamming off some cabinet doors. Blood trickled down his face from the crack in his scalp.<br>Frank he muttered, eyes heavy, Frankie Frank brought the mallet down again. And again. And again.  
>Gerard was now on his back, limp against the floor. Frank could see his chest rising and falling, ever so slowly.<br>Gerard s closed eyes flickerd, fighting to open. There was screaming now. From the back yard. Probably Her, Frank thought. But he didn t have time to deal with Her right now. No doubt the police would be here soon.  
>He grabbed his bag from the table and fell to his knees by Gerard s side.<br>He slowly lifted Gerard s head onto his lap, smudging the flowing blood into his former loves now matted hair.  
>He tipped the face paints from his bag to the floor, before snatching the white paint up. He delicately began to paint Gerard s face, caking it in white. Next, he used the black to paint his eyes, almost like a panda. After that was the red smile. Lastly, he picked up the spray paint, then proceeded to spray Gerard s bloody black hair green.<br>He sighed at the mismatched colour. It would have to do.

When the police burst in, guns pointed in his direction, Frank grinned at them, maniacally.  
>Gerard s head, still in his lap, the fresh paint smudged with his own blood.<br>Frank stroked Gerard s hair, the white ruffles of his gloves now soaked in blood.  
>S ok puddin he whispered, laying his free hand on Gerard s still chest. <p>


End file.
